DEVASTATED ISLE IS ON THE MEND

Residents described this place as looking like a plucked chicken after Iniki, the worst hurricane in Hawaiian history, struck on Sept. 11.

At least three people died, vegetation was stripped bare, more than 14,000 homes were destroyed or damaged, and most of the more than 100 resorts, hotels and condominums were knocked out of business by winds that averaged 145 m.p.h.

A Navy instrument on a 1,500-foot-high ridge recorded a gust of 227 m.p.h. before it was swept away.

But now this island without seasons is experiencing a spring.

Six weeks after the storm, the green came back, repairing the scenic damage with a speed surprising even those who live here.

The famed tunnel of eucalyptus trees near Koloa, a town on the southern coast, became a tunnel of toothpicks when Iniki struck. Now it is green once more, thousands of new branches sprouting from battered limbs.

Physical reconstruction of the 551-square-mile island is following more slowly. Thousands of roofs still have plastic tarps to keep out the rain, and sheets of plywood cover some windows.

Repair crews are swarming like bees on roofs all over the island. Roads and utilities have been almost completely restored despite the snapping of more than 5,000 poles.

Depending on who is doing the counting, the damage amounts to at least $1 billion (federal government estimate) or $2 billion (Kauai County estimate). Loss of tourism revenue is estimated at $250 million to $500 million.

Iniki was the third most-damaging hurricane in U.S. history, after Andrew, which struck Florida in August, and Hugo, which devastated parts of the Southeast in 1989.

Travelers who return now will find fewer amenities, scenes of awesome destruction, uncrowded beaches, and mixed emotions from islanders. Kauai residents are anxious for the dollars that make up at least 45 percent of the economy, yet are distracted by the task of repairing homes and lives.

"We don't want people to feel the island was destroyed, but we want to warn them of our limitations," explained JoAnn Yukimura, mayor of Kauai County. "Some people are cautious about bringing visitors back too soon."

The Sheraton at Poipu Beach had finished a $22 million renovation of its beachfront side in April. Then Iniki's waves hurled logs and rocks into the oceanside rooms. Now the hotel is planning to rebuild again.

Charles Fletcher, a coastal marine geologist at the University of Hawaii, questions the wisdom of that. Inspecting the coast after the storm, he found saltwater penetrated up to 300 yards inland. Waves 20 to 25 feet high caused the worst damage. He says the state shouldn't allow rebuilding on Poipu within 100 yards of the beach.

That suggestion is unlikely to be taken seriously. Shayda Marciel, a former cashier at the Sheraton, has worked as a security guard at the wounded resort since the storm and, until a week ago, her family lived in a tent in their roofless living room.

She sees no choice but to rebuild next to the ocean. "This is our money maker," she said, gesturing to the scoured rooms and debris-filled swimming pool. "Everyone who comes to Hawaii wants to stay on the beach."

One mistake is not being repeated. After a bad hurricane in 1982, home-building codes were relaxed for a year to speed reconstruction. Those who took shortcuts paid dearly Sept. 11.

This time officials are insisting rebuilders include hurricane clips to hold down roofs, plus other precautions.

Such precautions seem to have helped Stephanie Reid's home, which escaped Iniki unscathed. Reid and her contractor husband, Michael, built their house with, among other things, the proper clips and hurricane glass.

Iniki has given fast-developing Kauai an enforced breather to consider growth issues. The disaster pulled the island's 50,000 residents together as never before, but it also made plain the island's dependence on outside money and supplies, the risks of a highly developed tourism economy, and its vulnerability to hurricanes.

Yukimura is the first mayor to be elected on Kauai who has expressed some skepticism of development, winning on her third try. Yet she made a trip to Japan recently to promote tourism recovery. While only 10 percent of Kauai's visitors are Japanese, all the major resorts are owned by Japanese corporations.

Accordingly, some complain that she is too cautious in urging a return to tourism; others say the trip to Japan was premature when some islanders are still homeless.

"She shouldn't be in Japan," said Mari Ojas, a 19-year-old former hula instructor at the Coco Palms resort who has been living in a tent with her 2-year-old daughter since the hurricane. Ojas survived the storm by wedging a table into a corner and crawling under it with her daughter after the walls on her rental home blew away. "Nobody wants tourists right now anyway. Everyone is stressed out."

But Ojas' plight is an exception, and with government aid she is expected to be moved to a hotel soon. Most islanders have found housing, and many of the remaining tents are occupied by construction workers trying to save on rent. The county wants to impose a $750-a-month camping fee to clear parks of squatters before tourists return.

That disturbs Octavia Nakamura, who organized and represents the campers at Niumalu Beach Park near Lihue. There are still 54 tents and 82 people in that camp, one of nine such camps. Seven tents at Niumalu hold homeless Kauai families; the rest hold construction workers.

"These guys are not here to get rich. They are here to help us put the island back together," she said of the workers. The county is scrambling to try to find alternative housing for the workers.

Many islanders are surprised at how swiftly they are putting their lives back together. If there is such a thing as a "proper" disaster, Iniki was probably it.

While there are plenty of tales of individual hardship-the shutdown of tourism pushed the unemployment rate to 25 percent by October-many Kauaians praised the response of both the government and the insurance industry in providing aid and settling claims. "Mahalo" (thank you) signs dot the island, expressing appreciation to everyone from the military to God.